Mar 17, 2017

Don’t get down when
the Cavalry doesn’t ride; doesn’t mean that Hollywood didn’t get it right.

So begins what may be the most Son Volt album ever.

We spent some time in this space six
weeks ago mulling over an old Son Volt record, and how it should be judged
against the band’s body of work. In the process of that look back -- which
corresponded with the release of Notes of
Blue, its eighth studio album not counting compilations – a thought occurs
to the dedicated Son Volt fan. To wit: This
band will always be whatever Jay Farrar finds compelling at any given moment.

If he finds something interesting that needs a new voice or
interpretation, we’re gonna get a new Son Volt album. If it resonates with the folks, great.
If not, that’s okay too, because Jay’s gonna do his thing. Case in point, 2013’s Honky Tonk, Farrar’s sublimely faithful
send-up of the Bakersfield sound. Which itself was the first peep heard from
him since 2009.

As the simply self-evident title suggests, Farrar decided
he’d do a blues record. And he did, man, and put a stamp on it only he could. Notes of Blue, which Jay says is
influenced heavily by Mississippi Fred McDowell and Skip James, certainly isn’t
your conventional blues deal. It’s alternately rambling and driving, with the
customary stop-go tempo changes that date back to Uncle Tupelo thrown in. There’s
a cowboy ethos…as many Westerns as are coming out these days – remake and
original – Notes of Blue should be a
soundtrack to one of them.

And it’s a bunch of wonderfully different tunings (which
made for frequent equipment changes live, see below), 30 minutes efficiently
packed into 10 songs. There’s vitality, there’s brooding, and sheer badassery
on “Threads and Steel.” But as the opening cut, “Promise the World,” passes the
Bakersfield-to-blues baton between albums.

And it was often the pedal steel-playing of [some dude] that got the crowd’s
attention time again at Atlanta’s Terminal West on March 10. I’m sorry, but as
we acknowledged earlier,
“Son Volt” is Jay and whomever is behind him at the moment. The guy on
steel was exceptional, and played keyboards really well, too. [That one guy] on bass sang competent
harmonies. The band was tight. Oh, wait.

Opening act? Yeah, there was one at the sold-out (625,
standing) venue.

Let me tell you about him for just a second. The advertised
bill was SON VOLT WITH JOHNNY IRION. So I Googled the guy.

-------

Oh, good. The Google hit reveals some
hippie-communist-douchebag who decided to prove his bona fides by doing an anti-Trump song.

Wow, guy. You must be
legit! And courageous. It takes a lot of balls to write songs hating on a
Republican. Is it lonely out there on that bastion? You know, I didn’t vote for
president last year, my first time ever taking a pass at the top of the ticket.
But, dude. Since you’re a musician,
I’m starting to come around to your way of thinking. Tell me more.

Wait, what? Your wife
is Woody Guthrie’s commie granddaughter? And y’all did a trio – no kidding –
with Pete Seeger’s Bolshevik great grandson or some such?

Oh, wow, Johnny. You’ve
swayed me. I’m a Democrat now. I demand that boys be allowed in girls’
bathrooms. Immediately, and anyone who objects is a bigot.

Good job, Johnny. I just
wish I’d been born in time to march with an NVA flag and spit on Vietnam vets
in airports.

-------

Sorry. Yeah, let’s keep politics out of music. He did some
songs. I didn’t listen.

The show was great. Farrar – did his hair seem unnaturally
dark, and did that question seem catty – led the band
onstage and quickly into “Cherokee Street,” emphasizing the Cowboys-and-Indians
vibe of the record. They played all but one of the cuts off the new album, and
oddly, not a single one from the last. The balance of the 20-plus song set was
a healthy sampler of Son Volt’s best work.

Trace,
appropriately, was well represented, with “Tear Stained Eye,” “Catching On,”
“10 Second News,” “Route,” “Drown,” and “Windfall” making the list. The
highlight for a lot of folks was an encore that featured three Uncle Tupelo
Cuts. I’d never heard the lovely “Still Be Around” live before, and it was
awesome.

Aug 1, 2016

One of the benefits of being in Farce the Music’s stable of reviewers/critics is regularly getting
turned on to new artists.Yes,
many friends consider me a “music snob” (if not a general butthole) for my
sneering at their infantile tastes, and I wear that badge (well, the “music
snob” one) proudly. I haven’t listened to music on commercial radio in years,
and Outlaw Country is pre-set #1 (channel 60) on my Sirius/XM receiver. Still,
all it takes is a periodic email from FTM
Boss man/Editor “Trailer” to make me feel like a noob.

The names in an email soliciting reviews might as well be
“some guy,” “this one band,” “her,” and “them.”

That’s how I discovered Austin
Lucas, and stumbled onto the best country album of the year. And through
him, I met another amazing artist I’d never heard of. And of course, the ubiquitous Sally.

Lucas and Matt
Woods (formerly “Who’s This Guy?” to me) played The Earl – an iconic
Atlanta venue -- in mid-July on their “Live
on Eight Legs” tour.

The solo acoustic twin bill was a delightful study in
contrasts of elite songwriters whose catalogs stand up just fine in an intimate
setting without a band’s support.

Woods, a scruffy, husky East Tennessean, ambled through an
hour-long set of poignant songs punctuated with witty observations, sometimes
at his own expense. (Imagine Steve Earle with a sense of humor, as tough as
that is.)He revealed what might
have been the moment he became destined to be an artist. Glued to the TV as a
youngster, “There was Conway Twitty, in a dark suit with that long,
skinny-handled microphone. He was drippin’ sweat and singin’ about gettin’
busy. I knew I had a chance. ” His natural connection with the audience is one
of the first things you notice; well, after the bracing vocals on songs like
“Johnny Ray Dupree,” a murder ballad that does Earle’s “Billy Austin” one
better.

“I spent the better part of the last two years living out of
a backpack,” Woods notes, “supporting my album With Love From Brushy Mountain.” He explains that Brushy Mountain
is the state pen down the road from his childhood home “and it scared the shit
out of me.” He then does a rousing version of that album’s title cut, itself a
fine murder ballad. He previewed his upcoming album How To Survive (October 7 release date) with “The
American Way,” a painful, increasingly all too common tale of a veteran
trying in vain to re-adjust to civilian life.

But it was “Dead Man’s Blues,”FTM’s Song of the Year in 2013, that
closed Woods’ portion of the service, and it definitely had an altar-call feel,
with an enrapturedaudience-turned-choir joining him on the last chorus for a full throated
a cappella finish.

Lucas would do him one better on a closing number, but first
he had an album’s worth of new material to introduce. Actually, the songs came
just after Sally settled in for the show.

It’s one thing to hear a professionally produced album with
great songs and top-flight instrumentalists; without them, Between the Moon and the Midwest wouldn’t be the great record that
it is. It’s another thing entirely, though, to see it put to the test in a
small room with nothing but a guitar and a microphone. Producer Joey Kneisser
did a fabulous job on it, but he didn’t use studio sleight of hand or any other
gimmicks. One after another, a
balanced mix of songs from the new album and 2013’s Stay Reckless poured out of Lucas and filled up the room. During
one of them, he hit the brakes suddenly, paused for a beat or two, and then
started belting the opening lines of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’.”

And he freaking killed
it. I mean Steve-Perry-note-for-note-not-in-a-lower-key smoked that thing. “That’s the number
one downloaded song of all time, and if you don’t like Journey, I don’t know
what’s wrong with you,”* he said, before resuming his song.

You can’t fake that.

“Some of y’all know,” Lucas said, as he readied to close the
show, “that I have issues with anxiety and depression, so I’d like everybody to
gather around.” The 50 or so in attendance complied (including Matt Woods &
me at the back of the crowd), as he unplugged his guitar and stood down from
the microphone. (At this point Sally got up from the guitar case, stretched,
then lay down in the middle of the stage.) It was time for another sing-along,
this time the touchingly
sweet “Alone in Memphis.” And for a few moments, artist and audience –
every one of them – had a genuinely spiritual connection.

You’d be hard pressed to find a better pair of artists – so
dedicated to the craft – for a night of singing and songwriting excellence. And
serious live music fans should hope that “Live on Eight Legs” gets an encore
tour, sooner rather than later.

----------------------

*Journey is the worst band of all time – maybe second-worst
behind Poison – but he may have a bit of a point here. And he freaking crushed
that song.

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